Sunday, August 28, 2005
East Meets West
"Which way is west?" Those were the words that came out of my mouth on Friday night at 2:45 am while standing on Avenue B and 3rd street. The man with the long bangs and tattoos pointed straight ahead, and I began my journey. I walked past a bunch of grungy bars, and past a desolate park and began wondering how far until I see something familiar. I wanted to take a cab but there were none to be found. Instead a couple of hippies sleeping on the stoop of the stairs of an apartment building, and a bunch of bikers across the street was the only thing visible. After many blocks of painful walking, damn these 5 inch heels! I see the light...Like a mirage , the sign appears: "Soho Billiards". I am home! I managed to walk to Soho and I felt all of a sudden a sense of relief. I got my bearings and I was no longer walking while checking over my shoulder every five minutes. So many may be asking..How did I arrive in this land? What made me pass over into the east? The story is as such. The night began with a rendition of a sixty minute "Romeo and Juliet" by my very talented Asian BF. After 13 weeks of training, the show exemplified the hard work. The night then progressed into tapas and Sangria over to the east, where I drank and talked till late with great friends. The dinner party consisted of prn from school, my gun fighting Virginian, and of course my good looking writer friend from L.I. I suppose the night could have ended in disaster since no one knew each other but they all had a connection either through me or the actor. However, we all found ourselves getting along great discussing bad slap stick comedies, 80's classics, and the waiter who stole a 30% tip. The night almost ended after a tearful walk through Tompkins square park where my LI writer tried ever so valiantly to shower me with eye drops only so that we can be stared out by a couple walking down the street. We were not sure if they were going to run to my rescue because they thought that the writer was an abusive boyfriend who just stuck a bottle in my eye and was yelling at me to stay still while he made me cry even more. I managed to clean out the make up from my eye and regained my composure to walk across the alphabet again. I met up with Punk's friends and we ended up at this dive bar with graffiti on the bathroom walls and drunk bartenders. Nevertheless, as always I had a great time in a place that was not one I would call my own. I know the offer to stay in the west village was there by the writer, and maybe if it was two years ago I might have thought it as an easy way of getting a quickie and then getting out of it by blaming it on the alcohol. However, those days are over and the only thing I could think of that night was how I need to finish law school so I can get my own place in NYC or move in with a guy so that I can split the rent, whichever comes first. Either way, I was stuck again walking past crack heads at 3:30 am in the morning, and sitting next to a drunk worrying that I will fall asleep and miss my stop (or drool on the drunk next to me). Good thing that at this time next Friday, the only worries I will have will be whether the BF and I will be arrested and thrown into an Ecuadorian jail for disturbing the peace, and how to explain that to Dad when he bails us out. The saga continues.